Page 30 of Keepsakes and Kismet

I blink and wait patiently for context.

Peyton frowns. “Wow. I thought after all the build-up, you’d have more of a reaction. Not gonna lie, Callum, it kind of hurts.”

Shit. I rub the corner of my mouth nervously. “Sorry, I’m just waiting for an explanation. What’s a tastemaker?”

Her eyebrows reach her hairline, as if she’s somehow shocked I don’t already know. She clears her throat dramatically. “You’re asking the wrong question, Inspector. What you should be asking is, ‘What isn’t a tastemaker?’ Because we do a little bit of everything. Let me explain.”

She turns her monitor around toward me and scoots her chair to the side of her desk. With a click of her mouse, an image pops up on the screen.

“These are all the pictures I’ve taken over the past month at work. The one you’re looking at right now is from an alumni event at a private high school about twenty minutes from here. A few guests canceled at the last minute, and they had important donors attending, so they hired me to pose as a successful alum and work the room.”

“What do you mean by ‘work the room?’”

She shrugs. “I walked around and talked about my amazing research in Asia and how I never would’ve become one of the top researchers in the world without the schooling I received at Sylton Academy.”

A short, disbelieving laugh falls out of my mouth. “Aren’t you worried people will look you up afterward and see that you don’t exist?”

“You think people are going to look up top scientists of microbiomes in migratory birds? For fun, Callum? I told them I studied bird poop.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a thing?”

She laughs. “You tell me. You know all about birds.”

“Dead ones.”

Still grinning, she throws her hands up. “Whatever, Inspector.”

From this close, I notice a birth mark near the back of Peyton’s neck. She has a cartilage piercing in her ear—not just two in her lobes like I initially thought. There’s a small white scar on her chin, and I wonder how she got it. Maybe from one of her many strange assignments.

“I’m having the best time.” Romy’s voice breaks through our discussion, and I realize how close Peyton and I are sitting to each other.

We snap our heads toward Romy, who’s leaning back in her chair and eating pretzels.

Peyton brushes non-existent lint off her sweater and scoots back around to her side of the desk. “Anyway, that’s the gist. Professional, in-person influencing. Launch parties and openings, but also weddings and funerals. And everything in between.”

I scratch my chin. “So, at MingHin Kitchen, you were…”

“Prepping for their opening day. I was contracted to generate buzz on social media and talk loudly about how much I was enjoying the food, among other things.”

“And the seahorse costume?”

“That one’s mostly personal. We sponsor a local charitable foundation, and I am the woman beneath the mask.” She props her head up with her hand. “The different jobs keep things interesting, that’s for sure.”

My lips tip up as I lean back in my chair. “Wow. That’s really cool. You own a business.”

Peyton blushes. “I own it, yeah.”

I duck my chin to meet her gaze. “Congratulations. And you did all this in… what was it? Two years, right?”

I remember Peyton mentioning at the smoothie shop that her big move to Waterton was around that time.

She nods, sitting a bit straighter in her seat, and I can practically feel her pride second-hand. “Thanks, Callum.”

I glance at Romy, approval written across her face.

Peyton rubs her hands together. “Alright then. Go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what?” I ask.